A Soap Opera In M Flat, Hobbit Stalking
by Mishna
1. Lemons and Unconscious Elves

"Legolas, I'm really sorry about this, but . . ."  
  
THWACK.  
  
The heavy rock-shaped stone landed on the head of Mela's twin brother. Legolas collapsed into a heap of frizzy Elf-mush on the soft grass. Mela pulled up his eyelids to make sure that he was knocked out. He was. He would be furious with her for giving him a lump on his head, if he woke up before it healed.  
  
Mela dragged Legolas to the dining hall. It was never used, so nobody would find him there, but he would know where he was when he woke up. It took her a very clumsy seven and a half minutes to cram him into a large cupboard, and then she promptly pulled out some pretty rope and tied him up. She didn't really mind being this cruel; Legolas always got in her way and he probably wouldn't even know what happened. Mela would be gone by then.  
  
She was about to turn and leave before making one last check. She had stolen some of his clothes earlier, so that was under control. They already looked identical; except for the sky-reflecting-the-ocean-blue contacts Peter Jackson made Legolas wear . . . that was what she was forgetting! Mela took Legolas's sky-reflecting-the-ocean-blue contacts out of her brother's eyes and painstakingly put them in her own. How could Legolas stand these things? Mela closed the door to the cabinet, conducted a not-so- impeccable leap onto Legolas's horse and galloped off as fast as she could.  
  
As she rode, Mela made a neat chart in her head. She was a little bit of an organizational freak, and needed a way to inform the reader of the events which led to the most beloved member of the fellowship losing consciousness. The chart went something like this:  
  
"I took Legolas's contacts. (Ha! Loser!) I took them because I needed to look like him. (Screw you, Peter . . . I'm the pretty twin anyways.) I needed to look like Legolas because I want to take his place in this "fellowship" thing that he's not supposed to know about yet. (Legolas doesn't read much.) I wanted to take his place in the fellowship because he was going to take Unongleal's. (Unongleal was much worthier than Legolas, so there.) Legolas took Unongleal's place in the fellowship because Unongleal died. (Unongleal was my best friend.) Unongleal died because I told him that giant spiders liked to be tickled, and if you tickled one, that they would give you three wishes. (Unongleal is a lot more gullible than I thought he was.)"  
  
Unfortunately, the list continued all the way to Rivendell, and Mela hadn't even reached her Elven High School Prom.  
  
To sum things up, Mela was trying to avenge her friend's death. He was about to be sent to join the Fellowship of the Ring, but died and Mela decided that it would be easy for her to trick people into believing that she was her twin brother Legolas, who was to be a part of the Fellowship in Unongleal's place. Clear? Better be.  
  
On the third day of Mela's journey, Peter Jackson knocked her off of her horse.  
  
"What do you think you're doing, Legolas?" he yelled.  
  
"I'm going to Rivendell, you dolt."  
  
"Here," he said irritably, shoving several lemons into Mela's hands. "I said I wanted you to have blonde hair, remember?"  
  
"Um, sure," Mela muttered, "They're vegan, right?"  
  
"What?!" Peter said, clearly irritated.  
  
"The lemons. Are they vegan?"  
  
"Just shut up and dye your hair!"  
  
"Reow; fine."  
  
That night she dyed her hair, trying to ignore the pounding inside her head that hinted suspicion towards the possibility that the lemons might contain meat and/or dairy products.  
  
In Rivendell, Mela noted that she was given much more respect as Legolas than she was as Mela. It drove her insane. She really wanted to yell at everyone and tell them who she was, but that wouldn't even plausibly function because it was not written in the book. Grr. The one thing, however, that really bothered Mela beyond all the others, was what she had to wear. She hated Legolas' clothes. They hadn't looked that bad when he wore them, but now she was and she could see why he was cranky all of the time. Tight around the legs (something Mela had never ever worn before), tight on the arms, and with too many straps to count across her chest, holding up various objects on her back.  
  
Approximately five minutes before Mela had hit her twin brother over the head with a stone-shaped rock, she had brutally flattened her chest. She had used pieces of old fabric and tied them as tight as she could, nearly breaking down into tears out of frustration. It was not as easy as one might think. So, naturally, the first thing Mela wanted to do when she got to Rivendell was finding out where she was sleeping and unbinding herself.  
  
But everyone had something to say to her! Most of the things people cared about were, "How is your father?" and "Mirkwood's political state." Mela had been avoiding her father for ages, and she cared nothing for the boundaries of her land, so she just smiled and said, "All is well." She supposed that that was what people wanted to hear. It was not. They wanted details - excruciating and unknown details. To make a long story short, Mela began to invent details.  
  
Mela could not ride a horse well, aim well, fight well, get along with people well or pretend to be brilliant well. The one trait she possessed of any mild use was the ability to create outrageous and elaborate lies. She did this often as she could, and while it is rumor that Elves die if they tell a falsehood, Mela had not (so far). She lied constantly and extravagantly, to the point where often even she forgot which tale was a lie and which was true. She didn't particularly mind, however. Mela was a pitiful romantic and preferred her lies to the truth even when the truth gave her an advantage.  
  
Mela therefore found the council of Elrond to be quite enjoyable. She wove together an honorable story about Gollum escaping using the orcs to aid him. In this case, the truth was that she had been discussing philosophy quite intently with Unongleal when she was supposed to be guarding the creature; they could argue over things like that forever. She wasn't that upset when he snuck off, anyway. Although she never told Unongleal, Mela was downright terrified of Gollum, to the point where she would prefer to get dirty than have to look him in the eye. Mela hated getting dirty. She liked to be perfectly spotless at all times, or else a soot-on-my-dress episode was sure to occur.  
  
Back on subject, the council fell entirely for her story about Gollum. It was so pleasing to have such a gullible audience that Mela found it difficult not to start laughing. As the book had prophesized, several weeks later Mela was chosen (as her brother) to travel as a member of the Fellowship of the Ring. She was surprised that this made her happy, but she could tell that Elrond was beginning to glance at her in a very strange way.  
  
Besides, the hobbits were so adorable! There was Frodo, Pippin, Merry, and what was the last one's name? She should go ask one of them. Mela Elfishly glided over to Pippin and Merry and bent down.  
  
"Good day to you," she started.  
  
The hobbits nodded their reply (they were stuffing their faces with lembas).  
  
"I would be terribly grateful if one of you would tell me the names of your friends. I seem to be losing track."  
  
The halfling called Merry got a very un-hobbit-like serious look on his face, and put down the bread.  
  
"We all get confused when it comes to those two. You see, the blonde one is Frodo Baggins, but at all costs will he refer to himself as "Sam." The dark-haired one the ring bearer, is Samwise Gamgee, but refuses to be called anything but "Frodo." In fact, they call each other by the incorrect names and other people have been doing so for years. It is very sad."  
  
Merry shook his head dramatically. Pippin continued to chew; unaware of what had just happened. And Mela nodded her approval, "Oh."  
  
"Lembas?" Merry offered.  
  
"Hmm?" Mela said.  
  
"Do you want any lembas?" Merry asked again.  
  
"Um, can I check the ingredients?"  
  
"The ingredients?"  
  
"You know, to see if I can eat them. I'm a vegan."  
  
Merry turned to Pippin. "What does that mean?" he asked.  
  
"It means he's a hooker," Pippin responded.  
  
"Oh," Merry said.  
  
"I am not a hooker!" Mela said impatiently, "I'm a vegan. It means that I don't eat any animal products including meat, dairy or anything else that came from an animal."  
  
"Lembas doesn't have any of that in it," Merry assured her.  
  
Mela sighed. "There are different types of lembas. I need to read the ingredients to be sure."  
  
"No," Merry said.  
  
Mela threw her hands up in the air and gave up trying. She retired to her chambers. She was itching to get a breath out of her bindings, and knew that she would get none on the journey. She removed her boots, leggings, and vest hurriedly and began to unbutton her tunic.  
  
She felt a finger trace itself over her bare shoulder blades from behind. Terrified of being caught, she held her tunic where she had unbuttoned it and spun around.  
  
The most beautiful Elf Mela had ever seen was standing behind her. Her hair was dark and long; her presence as delicate and graceful as her figure, and she reminded Mela of the tale of Luthien. This Elf must have been the legendary Arwen Evenstar, descendant of Tinuviel herself!  
  
"Estel's sword needs repairing," Arwen said softly and mysteriously, "It will take all day."  
  
Mela then realized that her brother must somehow know Arwen, and that she must pretend that she did, also. But before she could think of anything to say, Arwen took both of her graceful hands and shoved Mela onto her bed, then followed herself. She tried to kiss Mela, but Mela rolled herself off of the bed in exasperation.  
  
"What are you doing?" She shouted.  
  
Arwen remained on the bed, rejected and confused. "Aragorn," she said sweetly, "He is busy today. It can be a sun-roses day."  
  
"A sun-roses day?" Mela questioned.  
  
"Legolas," Arwen pouted, "Why will you not make love to me?"  
  
Mela wondered if she should tell Arwen the truth. Nah.  
  
"To tell you the truth," she said, "I cannot stand you. I never really loved you, anyway."  
  
"Love?" Arwen laughed, "What is this you speak of love? I thought we decided to keep this relationship strictly instructional!"  
  
"Instructional."  
  
"Yes, instructional. It was always you begging for me to leave Estel. Wait, was today a pop quiz? Did I do something wrong? Am I failing the course?"  
  
"Um . . ."  
  
"What's my grade? I need to get a passing grade or father won't let me marry Aragorn!" Arwen looked desperate.  
  
"Um . . ."  
  
"Legolas, tell me! I'm failing, aren't I?"  
  
"Course over! You get an 'A'!" Mela said, hoping this would end it.  
  
"An 'A'? Really?" Arwen switched into a girlish excitement mode.  
  
"Um . . . that's what I said."  
  
"Legolas . . ." the girlish excitement had faded, circled and was now back to a low, seductive tone.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Do you remember what you promised me if I got an 'A'?"  
  
Mela silently cursed. What was she getting herself into?  
  
"I know that we were strictly instructional," Arwen continued, "but I have always felt that you should be king of me over Estel." She then dramatically drew an invisible sword. "If you want me, come and claim me."  
  
"I don't want you, Arwen." Mela tried to say this firmly. Arwen practically had her pinned to the wall and was unbuttoning her tunic. Her tunic! But it was too late. Arwen saw the bindings drawn taut around Mela's chest and suppressed a scream.  
  
"Legolas . . . no . . . who are you?" She squeaked.  
  
Mela sighed. Damn, now she would have to tell Arwen the truth. Or would she?  
  
"I am Legolas, Arwen," she said, "My sister told me that maidens took to femmy Elves, so I got these implanted at K-Mart." That was one of Mela's worse lies. Arwen would have to be an idiot to believe it. Apparently, Arwen was an idiot.  
  
"Oh," she said. She seemed afraid and made to leave the room.  
  
"Wait," Mela said. As much fun as it was to create lies, Mela didn't want to ruin her brother's life.  
  
"Yes?" Arwen said, in a cold-shoulder sort of way.  
  
"I'm not Legolas."  
  
Arwen turned, forgiving but interested, "Who are you?"  
  
"My name is Mela; I am Legolas' twin sister."  
  
"Why are you here?"  
  
"My best friend, Unongleal and I promised one another that we would go on an adventure together. The next day, I told him as a joke that the giant spiders in Mirkwood liked to be tickled, and I was surprised when he tried it, but it killed him. Unongleal was supposed to have been a part of this fellowship, and it was my fault he died, and I wanted to fulfill our promise to one another. Once it was found out that Unongleal was dead, Legolas was told that he would be sent in Unongleal's place. I knocked out Legolas and rode here as him."  
  
"I won't tell who you are," Arwen said, "If you promise not to tell Aragorn about what I've been doing with Legolas."  
  
"I won't promise," Mela said, "but I won't tell." Arwen found this suitable and nodded her head. "Arwen," Mela asked carefully, "If you do not love Aragorn, then why are you going to marry him?"  
  
"I lost a bet."  
  
"Oh."  
  
The fellowship was to leave the following week.  
  
From the Diary of Legolas Greenleaf:  
  
I woke up this morning in a cupboard. Yes, a cupboard. It took me a minute to figure out that I was in the dining room, where Mela and I used to hide from one another. Thranduil tells me that I've already left for Rivendell. I am so confused.  
  
I know this entry is two minutes after I put down the pen from the other one, but a thought just crossed my mind. What if Mela took my place? She might of . . . only why? She hates dirt! Maybe I am wrong . . .  
  
Today I set out for Rivendell. It is a long journey, and a tedious one. Maybe I should let whoever is pretending to be me, pretend to be me! Less work! Oh, but I really want to see Arwen. She is so beautiful . . . and she still is falling for the "lessons" trick. It's got to be the oldest one in the book! Oh well, as if I mind. 


	2. The Imposter Goes South

Left, right. Left, right. Left, right. So much walking! Mela had promised Unongleal the day before he died that they would go on an adventure together, but this was beyond any reason. They weren't even attacking anything.  
  
"Legolas!" Frodo said.  
  
"Yes, Your Highness?" Mela answered. It drove her to near insanity that Frodo was treated the way he was, but she had no choice but to comply.  
  
"This traveling chair you built for me is a wreck. First of all, I wanted it built for Aragorn and Boromir to carry me, and they're shoulders are this wide, not that wide. I told you very specifically that I wanted the seat to be embroidered with mushrooms and these just look like mushed horses. Will you not do something about it?"  
  
"Certainly. Right away." Mela was ready to scream with all that she had taken from that hobbit. All the same, she got to work on his kingly cart.  
  
Mela's new favorite game, the thing she did to keep herself busy, was to tell the hobbits her stories. Of course she told them as if they were true events that had happened to her, and she was always the heroine - wait, no, hero - in them. Hobbits were very gullible, and she loved to reel out these tales to them as they walked.  
  
"Have I told you yet the tale of the ground that would swallow people?" She said.  
  
The hobbits would shake their heads and look up at her, waiting for the story.  
  
"Long ago, when I was but a century of age, there was a clearing in the woods. It was said that anything placed in the middle of the circle would be swallowed, whole. The ground would shake, the dirt would move, and within seconds whatever was in the middle of the clearing would vanish!  
  
"I wanted to see this for myself, so I threw a rock with impeccable my aim into the middle of the clearing. Chhh! It was gone! I gallantly strode towards where my rock had disappeared and, as I had intelligently planned, I was heroically swallowed also. Inside, was a vast room (I landed gracefully on the floor); kings and queens of many ages were all down there, trying to find a way out. Some had been there for centuries! They begged me to aid them, and I used my brilliance and strength to construct a tunnel leading out of the clearing, saving them all.  
  
"I then lightly tossed several seeds into the middle of the clearing, watched with my Elf-ray vision as they were swallowed, and I carefully poured plenty of water into the room through my tunnel. Massive trees broke forth form the earth, and the cursed ground could hurt people no more. The kings and queens thanked me gratefully, and are still in my debt. They claim that if I ever want anything, that they will gladly grant it for me. But I am a humble Elf. I do not wish to cheat the poisoned minds of the nobility, so I will never take them up on their offers. I am much to kind to do that."  
  
"Show off," Gimli muttered as he marched by braiding his beard. Aragorn and Gandalf scowled as well. Mela was confused. Wasn't this what men did when away from women? Trading self-exaggerating stories and trying to outdo one another? Mela didn't understand why she was the only one doing this.  
  
In fact, the only members of the fellowship who seemed to appreciate Mela's tales were the hobbits. The one called Sam was apparently enchanted by Elves and Mela often caught him staring at her.  
  
He was a little bit quirky, Sam. He would wait hand and foot on Frodo from curling his toenails to buttering his hair to holding Nightly Entertainment Shows for him.  
  
The NES (Nightly Entertainment Shows) that Sam would put on were hardly entertaining. Mela would call them more frightening, in fact, but she always nodded her approval in what she hoped was a manly way because Sam's self-esteem seemed to be in the negative zone of a number line. Every NES began with a poorly rhymed poem which Sam claimed that he had heard somewhere, but Frodo told Mela that it was really Sam who made them up himself. The NES was really a variety show, in a way. Sometimes, Sam would dance an embarrassingly dorky jig. Sometimes he would tell jokes or riddles. Sometimes he would lead meditation and often he would take a nap (Sam was an amazingly beautiful sleeper. This was a real crowd pleaser).  
  
One thing that couldn't seem to be beat, however, was when Sam would give cooking lessons. He was a wonderful chef, and if word got out that his show that night included a cooking lesson, then everyone would come, invited or not (one needed a special invitation from Frodo in order to attend the NES). Aragorn would diligently take notes. Mela did also, because she was a horrible cook and needed instruction badly. Boromir and Gimli claimed that they could not learn if they took notes, so they listened intently, eyes bulging and mouths drooling. Gimli would also bring his knitting needles and knit his beard. He told Mela that he was working on a sweater. It looked more like socks, though, and Mela was tempted to suggest to Gimli that he change what he was making before he got to the heel. Gandalf would always prepare ahead of time and collect ingredients so that he could follow along with what Sam was doing. Merry's sole purpose at all times that they were not walking (and sometimes when they were) was to give Frodo a back massage, so he would be doing that, and Pippin would be begging food off of Gandalf. The whole system worked quite well.  
  
"Frodo," Mela said, turning to Sam, "What will tonight's NES be like?"  
  
"My name is Sam," Sam said. Mela nodded; she was getting used to whom she though was Frodo denying his identity. "Tonight's NES is a surprise. But, I suppose I can tell you . . . "  
  
"Oh, please do!"  
  
"Very well. I have a quaint poem I heard in a pub back home, interpretive dance, and . . . impressions!" Sam seemed very excited about this last part.  
  
"Am I invited?"  
  
"I'll speak with Frodo; I'll see if you can come as my guest."  
  
"Many thanks, Frodo," Mela said.  
  
"My name is Sam."  
  
"To each his own."  
  
"No, it really is. Oh, and Legolas?" Sam asked.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I had hoped that for my interpretive dance tonight you would sing."  
  
"Sing?" Mela choked. She couldn't sing for the life of her.  
  
"Well, yes. Frodo tells me that Bilbo told him that Thranduil told him that you have a lovely singing voice."  
  
"Singing . . . voice?"  
  
"Will you?"  
  
Mela looked at the little hobbit. He looked so needy, so pathetic that she just had to say yes. She hated herself for it deeply. There was only one song she knew that she could sing in tune, and that was a child's song. Besides, Aragorn, Gandalf and whom-she-thought-was-named-Sam all knew Elvish and would be able to see that it was an Elvish tune. But whom-she- thought-was-named-Frodo seemed to need her . . .  
  
"I shall sing for your NES," she sadly replied. Sam looked delighted.  
  
Just then, the company looked up. In the distance, a grayish cloud was approaching. Everyone seemed worried.  
  
"Legolas," Aragorn hissed, elbowing Mela in the side, "your line!"  
  
"Oh!" Mela cried, and looked with her Elf-ray vision at the cloud. "Er . . . they're crows . . . from Dublin?"  
  
Boromir hit his head with his hand. "Are you sure that you don't mean 'crebain' from 'Dunland?'" He sounded very annoyed.  
  
"Ah . . . yes!" Mela cried. "Sorry, I had something stuck in my throat . . . the words came out wrong . . . one of those birds - I mean crows! - I mean crebain! Yes . . . the crebain was stuck in my throat."  
  
"In your throat?" Aragorn cried.  
  
"Well . . . yes! I had one of them for lunch." Mela sputtered.  
  
"We haven't had lunch yet." Aragorn reminded her.  
  
"Sorry . . . I meant elevensies. You see, I'm adopting a hobbit diet. They're much healthier these days. They're the new Atkins!"  
  
"I tried that once. . ." Aragorn admitted, shuddering, "but I must ask you, how could you have eaten a crebain when they are still menacingly coming towards us?"  
  
"My Elf-ray vision fried one from afar and the wind carried it here and I ate it!" Mela said defiantly. Aragorn muttered something about Elves and backed away.  
  
"Er . . . now that that's settled, let's hide from the crows - I mean crebain!" he said. "Frodo, shall I panic for you and help you to hide?"  
  
"Yes, thank you, Dunadan. That will quite do." Aragorn bowed to Frodo as he was dismissed.  
  
In perfect synchronization, everyone panicked and dove into the bushes. Mela was still terrified of what she had agreed to do, however.  
  
Two hours later, Sam cleared his throat. Tonight's NES audience included Frodo, Mela and Gandalf. Naturally, everyone else was hiding in the trees behind them.  
  
"Good evening, gentlemen," Sam said. "First off, I have a poem . . .  
  
"There once was a duck  
  
Who was in muck.  
  
He cried for help,  
  
And gave many a yelp.  
  
But no one came.  
  
They're all to blame  
  
For when the duck  
  
Stroke luck  
  
The world turned into  
  
The revenge of the duck.  
  
"There's a song to accompany it, also," Sam said, "It goes like this." He sung three notes in an ascending scale with no particular words and stopped, smiling. Mela, Gandalf and Frodo applauded at this cue.  
  
"Next," Sam continued, "I have asked Legolas to sing for me, and I will perform an interpretive dance to his song. He has a beautiful voice."  
  
Mela gulped, and began to sing in no particular tune. It sounded truly terrible; this could be seen through Sam's interpretive dance. He arranged himself in all sorts of grotesque shapes, managing to get across the idea of a wild animal suffering from pain beyond all pains. When she (thankfully) stopped singing, Sam lay sprawled out on the ground, twitching intermittently.  
  
Gandalf had his hat covering his entire face (including his ears), Frodo had tears streaming down his cheeks, and Sam was still on the ground twitching. Mela wondered if this was a part of the dance. She cringed at the memory of what had just happened, and ashamedly sat down, careful not to make eye contact.  
  
"I would like to make it very clear," Sam said as he got up from the floor, rubbing his ears, "that while I am going to do impressions next, none of them are meant to hurt anyone's feelings. See, now, you all try and guess who I am pretending to be. Here is the first one . . ."  
  
He ran into a corner, curled into fetal position and held his knees, shaking like a leaf. Before long, he had taken out a box of tic-tacs was shoving them into his mouth with amazing speed and agility. He whimpered, ate the tic-tacs and shuddered.  
  
Out of the dark night, a box of tic-tacs was hurled at Sam's head (with very good aim) and he toppled backwards, like an egg that was pushed over.  
  
"That's not funny, you bully!" Pippin said, running forward. He had revealed himself in the brush, and raced off bawling with great lung capacity. Mela saw Sam look around. Mela, Gandalf, Frodo, and the bushes were all laughing hysterically. It was so true! Whenever Pippin got upset, he would curl up and binge on tic-tacs; Sam's impression of him was a stroke of genius. Sam saw how funny the fellowship (minus Pippin) thought he was, and played off that. He went on to his next target.  
  
Sam now got a very annoyed look on his face. "You're wrong," he said. "You're always wrong. Why can't you just get it right for once? Sigh! What would you do if I weren't here to correct your every blunder? This fellowship would be lost without me."  
  
"Frodo!" Frodo guessed. Sam shook his head.  
  
"Mel - I mean, Legolas!" Mela guessed. Sam shook his head.  
  
"It is obviously Gandalf," the wizard said. Sam shook his head.  
  
"Aragorn!" The bush said. Sam shook his head.  
  
"Merry!" The bush said. Sam shook his head.  
  
"Boromir!" The bush said. Sam excitedly jumped up and down.  
  
"You've got it! You've got it!"  
  
Boromir stepped out of the bushes.  
  
"Merry," Sam continued, "Let's tell Boromir what he's won!"  
  
Merry flashed a smile as priceless as his diamond evening gown to the camera. "Boromir," he said, "You've won an all-expense paid trip to the next FIVE NES! Also, a dictionary so that you can continue to correct people of their mistakes! And, well, I'm guessing this was written before the NES tonight . . . you've won a free serenade sung by Legolas."  
  
Boromir stopped smiling. "I'll give you half of my NES tickets if you cancel the serenade," he inconspicuously whispered to Merry. Merry reached over a hand and they shook on it.  
  
"You owe me a huge favor," Mela heard Merry whisper back.  
  
"Alright, people, let's get back on track," Sam said. "You should all be able to guess this one in a heartbeat."  
  
He opened his mouth as wide as it would go, bared teeth and all, and began to fight invisible enemies, never closing his mouth. Immediately the company broke out laughing. Everyone except Aragorn, however; he just shot Sam an if-I-ever-catch-you-alone-in-a-dark-and-secluded-ally look. Sam paled and went on to his next impression.  
  
"I hate running for long periods of time," Sam said, and froze, waiting for a response. He got none, so tried again, "Darn! So much running! I hate running! I hate cross-country!"  
  
"Dude," Merry said, "those jokes weren't funny in the movie and they're not funny now."  
  
"I know that! Just guess who it is!"  
  
Gimli scowled, putting down his beard (he was braiding it), "If I ever get my axe on that Peter Jackson . . . I'll give him a few good swings. One for each hideously obnoxious anti-dwarf crack. And I'll only count the hits."  
  
Just then, two Riders In Black marched professionally onto the set and pulled out a stick-like instrument. They whispered something to Gimli while holding it in front of him, put their dark glasses back on, and left.  
  
Gimli appeared dazed. "What script?" he mumbled, going back to braiding his hair.  
  
"Fine, then! Another impression!" Sam yelled. His impressions were not going as he had planned.  
  
He stood in the middle of the "stage," tensed up his body, and screamed. He screamed as loud as he could and then changed pitches several times. Mela didn't stay to hear the rest. She inconspicuously backed out of the audience and began to cry. The hobbits looked so cute at first, but they were so mean! All men must be like that . . . cruel, bloodthirsty . . . Mela swore to herself never to fall in love.  
  
She aimlessly wandered around until she found Pippin, sniveling and eating tic-tacs in the corner as he wept. She sat down beside him and pick pocketed a box of tic-tacs from his pocket. She read the ingredients to make sure the tic tacs were vegan, then she and Pippin moped and ate for several minutes before Aragorn joined them.  
  
"Sam said I was compensating for something because I have a big sword," he sniffed, sitting down as well and binging on the breath mints. Mela chuckled to herself. He was.  
  
The three were soon joined by Gandalf, who wiped a tear off his cheek with his robes and choked out the story of how Sam had said he never changed his robes. All of this was making Mela happier and happier. He didn't.  
  
Eventually everyone except for Frodo and Sam was in the corner, crying and eating Pippin's tic-tacs.  
  
"It's only a matter of time -" Mela started, but was interrupted by Frodo, who yelled,  
  
"Off with your head!" At the top of his lungs. This time, everyone laughed.  
  
"Hey," Merry said, "Let's find a way to get those two back."  
  
Finally the seven had the perfect plan: seeing as hobbits hated snow, they would pretend that the crows - I mean crebain - were spies and that they would have to take the Pass of Caradhras. Originally Merry and Pippin protested this plan, but then Boromir and Aragorn promised to let them sit on their shoulders as they bulldozed through the snow. Frodo and Sam would have to walk.  
  
From the Diary of Legolas Greenleaf:  
  
Today I reached Rivendell. Elrond says that I've already been there. It must be Mela. Who else could (and would dare to) pull a stunt like this off? I think I shall stay here tonight, then travel on to find my company in the morning.  
  
Left this morning for the Red Horn Pass. Elrond says that he thinks that they will stop in Lórien; I hope they will for my sake. I think I can beat them there if I only run fast enough. I spent the (wonderful) night in Rivendell. Weather's nice. I miss Arwen already; if she marries that bastard Aragorn just because he has a crown, I'll cry. 


	3. Why Legolas is Portrayed as Vain

Chapter 3: And People Wonder how Legolas got the "Vain" Reputation Based on the movie By Ailuj  
  
Mela was blindly walking across the snow following Gandalf. Deaf to everything but her own discomfort, she scarcely noticed anything until a huge chunk of snow fell near her head.  
  
"It's Saruman!" bellowed Gandalf.  
  
Mela thought, "What? Damn! He'd be really mad if he knew I was here!" While Mela watched a flashback of dumping Saruman in her head, she completely missed someone suggesting going through the mines of Moria.  
  
"What is your opinion, Legolas?"  
  
"What? Oh, I don't know, is it dirty there?"  
  
"Probably," Boromir replied, rolling his eyes. "But better than up here."  
  
"Oh, all right. Even though this mountain, er."  
  
"Caradhras," Boromir supplied.  
  
"Yes, exactly. I suppose even getting the bottoms of my feet dirty is better than my hair getting messed up here!"  
  
Boromir, with a dirty look at Mela, said, "The Ringbearer's voice should surely be heard?"  
  
"We will go through the mines. Merry, keep rubbing my back," said Frodo.  
  
As the Fellowship walked down to Moria, Mela wished that she had never chosen to give her brother a good whack on the head, but she quickly subdued those thoughts.  
  
When Gandalf had finally found the door of Moria, to Mela's irritation, Gandalf didn't know how to open it! "We're being led by an idiot," she muttered, watching Gandalf draw into a corner and eat tic-tacs. (He had stolen some of Pippin's). She then walked over to where Sam (who insisted on being called Frodo) was having his face washed. While she was washing her own face, she heard Sam (who insisted on being called Frodo) exclaim "Gandalf! What's the Elvish word for friend?"  
  
"Mellon," replied Gandalf. To everyone's great shock and amazement, the door creaked open. Walking inside, however, revealed that some great carnage had taken place.  
  
"Wow!" said Pippin, never one to be depressed by dead bodies. "Some great carnage has taken place!"  
  
"Aagh!" Mela shrieked. Without further ado, she rushed outside, the rest of the Fellowship following. However, while Mela was rushing out to get away from the bodies, everyone else was rushing to save Frodo from the monstrous beast that had gripped him.  
  
"Legolas! Do something!"  
  
"Who, me? Ahhh. how does this thing work?" she asked nobody in particular, which was good, because nobody answered. Mela skulked in the background, trying to look like a productive, helpful member of the Fellowship.  
  
"Into the mines!" shouted Aragorn, and Mela obeyed with alacrity.  
  
Later, picking her way down the filthy path inside the tomb of Moria, Mela did not feel so sanguine, and the Fellowship was getting quite irritated with her mincing and trying to stay clean. As previously, she was so occupied with herself that she didn't notice much until Gandalf lost his way. At that point she had to take notice of things, as she, like the rest of the Fellowship, wanted to find a place to sit down. However, unlike the rest of the Fellowship, she was quite unwilling to sit on just any old dirty rock. It took her forever to find a decent one, and even then she snitched Aragorn's spare shirt to wipe it off with. (He wouldn't notice- he's grubby anyway.)  
  
Finally she was somewhat comfortable and resolved to get as much beauty sleep as possible. Mela had only gotten about 20 minutes of rest when she heard the word Gollum. She awoke with a jerk.  
  
"What? Gollum? Where?" The Fellowship stared at her.  
  
"Legolas, calm down. We were just saying that Gollum has been following us for three days. He is no threat to us- yet," said Gandalf.  
  
"Oh- oh yes. I- well, you see, since Gollum escaped from me I have felt the need to redeem my honor by catching him."  
  
"Ah yes. I understand- a matter of honor," said Aragorn, "I wouldn't be here if it didn't exist. I'd be happy instead."  
  
This may have continued for some time, but Gandalf exclaimed, "Ah! It's that way."  
  
"He's remembered!" chirped Pippin, but Mela had already resumed her tedious picking through the muck in the passageway. She once again didn't notice anything until Gimli gave a pained bellow and ran into a small room aside from the main hallway.  
  
"What now?" Mela moaned, but nobody listened. Gimli fell to his knees by a raised platform- the grave of his cousin, Balin. As Gandalf read from an old musty book, Mela stood in the background trying to look properly sorrowful, which wasn't easy for an elf that didn't give a dead dwarf about a dead dwarf.  
  
"Psst! Why didn't you help us earlier?" asked Aragorn.  
  
"My bow was malfunctioning. Technical difficulties," replied Mela, but the last part of her reply was cut off by Pippin throwing something loudly down the well.  
  
"Fool of a Took!" growled Gandalf. The drums of Moria began to boom. Before Mela knew it Aragorn and Boromir were blocking the door shut.  
  
"Legolas! Hurry up!" shouted Aragorn as he quickly strung his bow. "Help us here!"  
  
"Right!" replied Mela, trying to sound manly and in control. She clumsily strung and loaded her bow.  
  
"Psst," Boromir whispered to her. "It goes the other way."  
  
"I know," replied Mela. Any further conversation was stopped as the fight began. Luckily the fray was so busy that nobody noticed that Mela was doing 100% nothing. The sum total of what she did was duck when a horrible monster came crashing in and swung a chain at her.  
  
After that she simply stayed in a corner, waiting for the fight to be done. When it was, she followed the others to Frodo, meanwhile artistically smudging her face so it looked as if she had fought a hard battle. She hadn't, obviously.  
  
Following the Fellowship as they ran out the door, Mela was terrified. Her terror grew when they found themselves surrounded by goblins. She tried to press in to the center of the group so she would be protected. However, it appeared as though Aragorn, Gandalf, Boromir and Gimli were convinced to sacrifice themselves for the hobbits, and were taking her with them. Mela's relief when the goblins ran was short-lived, as what Gandalf called a Balrog chasing the company down the passageway followed it. As they were running away, Mela wondered, "Could things get any worse?" They could, as she soon found out.  
  
When they reached a split in the rock wall they were running on, Mela was ahead. She stopped and looked back, wondering what the heck she would do now.  
  
"Jump!" yelled Gandalf.  
  
"Are you out of your mind?" she screamed.  
  
"Just go!" Boromir shouted.  
  
"This is suicide!" thought Mela, but she jumped. Then, in a moment of kindness, she turned to help everyone else across. She watched in horror as the path was broken and Aragorn and Frodo were trapped on the other side. They leaned forward with the rock and. made it! Wait. Did Mela just almost care about the other people in the fellowship?  
  
The company continued running toward the bridge of Khazad-Dum, chased by the Balrog. Over the bridge! Mela was worried about how the wind and dust would affect her hair, but she didn't have time to think about it for too long. When she reached the other side she turned to watch Gandalf to make sure he was all right. After all, he was in charge of keeping her alive.  
  
To her horror, he cried, "You cannot pass!" and broke the bridge with his staff, going down with the Balrog. Sorrowfully, Mela ran with the rest of the Fellowship, wondering, "Oh, now what will happen to my hair?" 


	4. Lothlorien and What Women Know but Don't...

Mela had never seen men cry. She did now, as they lamented Gandalf's abrupt and horrific death on the mountainside. Years later and in an entirely different world, one of cell phones and hoods, an audience of Tolkien fans would wonder at the look on Mela's face right then. It appeared almost to be a caring, uncomprehending face reflecting the incident which just occurred, but only Mela knew that it was not. She was looking at her companion's faces. She had thought that they didn't cry, this species, and they had been good at disguising the fact that they did. Besides, Mela's pants were still too tight. Mela wondered if the same went for her own species, the feminine race; if, without knowing it, she too had secrets that she shared with other women but not men.  
  
Mela would find out the answer soon. The fellowship of now eight dragged themselves into Lothlórien. Mela had always dreamed of visiting these woods, but had never gotten a chance. She wasn't grateful for it now.  
  
The leaves were not truly golden; she could see Elves spray-painting them, and the sun didn't shine, but a large set of stage lights did. Mela had seen a postcard once of Lothlórien, and wished now that she could live in the postcard and not the actual forest. Her thoughts were interrupted by the hobbits Pippin and Merry, who were bouncing around her feet and pulling on her tunic.  
  
"So, can we can we can we?" They rambled.  
  
"Can you what?" Mela said, shoving them off of her clothes.  
  
"Go to the gift shop! Galadrim Gifts; only the most infamous store in all of middle-earth!" Merry squeaked.  
  
"Infamous?"  
  
"Of course! It is guarantied that absolutely nothing you buy there will function properly. Instead, it will serve an entirely different purpose!"  
  
"Alright, then. We will visit Galadrim Gifts!" Mela tried to sound enthusiastic.  
  
Boromir looked at Mela. She could tell he was about to correct her.  
  
"Uh . . . I mean, you can't go to Galadrim Gifts. It's all porn." She tried.  
  
"No duh!" Pippin said, shaking his head.  
  
Boromir breathed in, paused for suspense, and then started. "The Galadrim Gift Store, Inc., is only open once every moon. It will not be open again for . . . several weeks."  
  
"Well, I get to be the new leader," Aragorn said, "so I'll decide what we will do." He pretended to look thoughtful. "Hmm . . . I have decided that this expedition is worthless. Let's just move on and forget about the gift shop."  
  
The company looked at Aragorn as if he were insane. They promptly tied him up and stuck him in a tree.  
  
"Come on," Boromir said, "We need to go meet Galadriel now."  
  
"Then the gift shop?" Frodo whined.  
  
"Whatever," Boromir said.  
  
"Sam?" Mela asked.  
  
"Yes, Legolas?" Sam said.  
  
"No, not you, Sam."  
  
"Oh." Sam sighed. "Frodo! Legolas wants you!"  
  
"Did he make an appointment?" Frodo asked from inside his portable shade tent.  
  
"Yes." Mela said.  
  
"Yes." Sam said.  
  
"Damn!" Frodo said.  
  
"Sam?" Mela asked once she got inside Frodo's tent.  
  
"My name is Frodo, but yeah?" Frodo said.  
  
"I was wondering if I could have some of your gold-leaf royal toilet paper."  
  
"What'll you trade me?"  
  
"Trade you? Uh, how about this NES ticket?"  
  
"Wow! Sure!" Frodo said enthusiastically.  
  
Mela laughed on her way out. Hobbits were so stupid.  
  
The next day, Galadriel and Celeborn met their visitors. Galadriel smiled and welcomed them,  
  
"Welcome to Lórien, home of Galadrim Gift Enterprises. Because of your special mission, I will grant you each one coupon for a free gift from the gift shop. Unfortunately, the Galadrim Gift shop will not be open for at least another month. You are welcome to stay here, however, and wait for it to open so that you can collect your prize."  
  
"You're wrong," came a voice from the corner. In a tiny cage was an Elf, crouching and trying to get out of the cage. "The correct line is from The Fellowship of the Ring, on page –"  
  
But the Elf didn't get a chance to finish talking. "Shut up and sit down, Celeborn!" Galadriel ordered. Celeborn obeyed.  
  
Mela watched Galadriel's eyes drift from person to person in the fellowship, apparently speaking with each one with her mind. Her eyes rested on Mela, and opened in surprise.  
  
Galadriel regained her composure and Mela heard a voice in her head.  
  
"What happens does for a reason. You are not very smart, so I will try to be less enigmatic, but I will say this: meet me tonight at midnight. I should be in a better mood; I want to play my favorite practical joke on the Ring bearer."  
  
Mela nodded, unsure what to say, and Galadriel moved on to address Gimli. When she moved away from him, Mela looked to see why Gimli was laughing. In his hand, he had a large pair of scissors and had sheared off some of Galadriel's hair, which he was trying to stuff into his pocket before anyone saw. He had a mad-axe-murderer look on his face; it really scared Mela. He grinned very evilly and hid the shears back in his beard. Apparently one could store anything in one of those.  
  
"Galadriel," Celeborn interrupted again. He had seen his wife's hair.  
  
Galadriel fished a small box out of her pocket and pushed a button, shocking Celeborn who had the matching collar tied around his neck.  
  
"Ow!" he said.  
  
"Next time, shut your trap," Galadriel told him, annoyed.  
  
"Yes, Gally."  
  
Zap! Galadriel had pressed the button again.  
  
"Ow! What was that for?"  
  
"I told you never call me pet names in public. Refer to me as 'master.'"  
  
"Yesum."  
  
Zap!  
  
"Ow! Yes, master!"  
  
"That's better. Moving on, sleep wherever you want. Just stay away from my bathtub."  
  
Merry, Pippin and Boromir exchanged raised eyebrows. 'Men are disgusting,' Mela thought, then corrected herself, 'Men and male hobbits are disgusting.'  
  
That night, Mela met Galadriel at her tree house. They gave the password and climbed up the rope ladder.  
  
"Soy mocha?" Galadriel offered.  
  
"Yes, please!" Mela sighed. "I haven't had caffeine since I left Rivendell!"  
  
"Oh, you poor, poor dear!" Galadriel put a reassuring hand on Mela's shoulder.  
  
"You have no idea." Mela said.  
  
"What is your name, honey?"  
  
"Mela, daughter of Thranduil."  
  
"A twin?"  
  
"Yup."  
  
"Hmm. You have made it this far . . . how extraordinary!"  
  
"LOOK OUT BEHIND YOU!" Mela shouted. Gimli was standing directly behind Galadriel with the same crazed, wide-eyed expression he had earlier. This time he carried an electric razor and was reaching for Galadriel's scalp. She calmly reached behind her, grabbed Gimli and flipped him over her shoulder, before pushing him off of the edge of the tree house.  
  
"This is why we keep Dwarves as far away as possible." Galadriel said.  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Look," Galadriel said, "I'll stall your brother as long as I can. It should give you enough time to visit the gift shop and start down the Anduin. I will also grant you a private chamber in a private tree house."  
  
"Oh, thank you," Mela said. The lady's reputation was not nearly as generous as it should be, "One thing: is my brother having an affair with any Elves here?"  
  
Galadriel laughed, "Oh, you found out about Arwen?"  
  
"Mmmhmm."  
  
"I wish I had been there."  
  
"No you don't."  
  
"Oh yes I do. No, Legolas only seduces dark-haired girls and everyone here is platinum blonde. Besides, he really loves Arwen," Galadriel said.  
  
"Why don't they get married?" Mela asked, having forgotten.  
  
"Arwen lost a bet."  
  
"Oh yeah," Mela paused, "Does everyone know about this?"  
  
"Aragorn doesn't."  
  
"Ah. My world now makes sense."  
  
"Well, darling, I have to go. I'm going to push Frodo into my bathtub."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"He's a real wimp, and it's funny to hear him scream that he's drowning in the two-some inches in it."  
  
"Oh. Alright, then."  
  
Galadriel stopped before climbing down the rope ladder, "I knew I forgot something. Here," she said, throwing a fortune cookie at Mela's head and disappearing.  
  
"It's vegan!" Galadriel shouted from the ground.  
  
Mela loved fortune cookies. She greedily snarfed this one down, and unfolded the fortune:  
  
"Mela daughter of Thranduil, it is your destiny to fall in love with and be wedded to none other than a very handsome Frodo Baggins."  
  
"Eww!" Mela shrieked, and sputtered the fortune cookie out of her mouth. She heard laughter in the distance. Apparently Galadriel had succeeded in pushing Frodo into her bathtub.  
  
Frodo (or who Mela thought was Frodo), that chubby little hobbit who waited hand and foot on Sam (or who Mela thought was Sam), was destined to marry her? Mela considered her options. If she ignored the prophesy, she was bound to be caught off-guard. If she fulfilled it, perhaps she could control it and willingly fall in love with the hobbit. But why would anyone want to do that? Frodo (or who Mela thought was Frodo) had made fun of her in the NES that one night. But fate could not be fought . . .  
  
"Legolas!" Aragorn shouted from the base of the tree, "There you are! Come on, we're going to T.P. Haldir's tree house!"  
  
Finally some fun! Mela eagerly downed her Soy Mocha and leapt out of the tree house. Apparently only Boromir and Aragorn had been up to the prank, so it was just the three of them as they crept through the night.  
  
Unfortunately, the three never made it to Haldir's tree house. They were bowled into by Celeborn, who looked as though every hair on his head had just been through shock collar treatment. It was more than Mela could deal with.  
  
"Aragorn," she said, "Quick! Get me Gimli! Sit, Celeborn." Celeborn, well- trained, sat as Mela fished several bottles of hair products out of her travel bag (so that's what they were for) and got to work.  
  
"What's the situation?" Gimli said, running up. Then he saw Celeborn's hair, "Oh, my cookies! Legolas, hand me the gel."  
  
Two hours, four lemons and nine bottles of hair spray later, Celeborn looked himself. Mela, satisfied, turned to continue on with her friends and T.P. Haldir's house, but Celeborn caught her, Gimli and Aragorn by the sleeves. Boromir, glad that he was not imprisoned by an abused and insane Elf, ran off happily to T.P. Haldir's tree house.  
  
"Children," Celeborn said, barely able to speak, "Children, listen to me. Never, in all of your existence, marry an Elf maiden." He stopped to catch his breath, then continued, "They're mad, every one of them!"  
  
Aragorn looked uncomfortable, but Mela now fully supported the way Galadriel treated Celeborn. Aragorn left to T.P. Haldir's tree house, while Mela and Gimli retired to their chambers to replenish her hair supplies.  
  
About a month later, The Galadrim Gift Shop was open, and the fellowship could leave after each choosing one souvenir. Mela was able to talk Boromir, Pippin and Merry into selecting a stylish belt, with the excuse that it could hold up their swords. She intended on stealing the belts later (they were so cute), but didn't realize that the belts' owners wouldn't be taking them off.  
  
Gimli stole what was officially recorded as his "gift." He finally managed to sneak up from behind Galadriel and pull out a large chunk of her hair. What he used his coupon for, however, was a loom. Gimli was very excited about this; he couldn't wait to get to work on his braid.  
  
Just to piss her off, Sam picked a BOX OF DIRT, which he ACCIDENTALY managed to SPILL ON MELA every FREAKING CHANCE HE GOT. Aaaagh! Mela saw that Aragorn had chosen an axe, and in her most manly voice possible said,  
  
"Nice axe!"  
  
Aragorn shook his head and walked away to check out, while Boromir screamed at the top of his lungs,  
  
"IT'S A BLOODY SWORD!"  
  
"Oh," Mela said. She busied herself in deciding what to get. It was between a pretty light bulb thing (with no specific purpose) and play-dough which was labeled, "Love Potion for the Lovelorn." Mela was not lovelorn, but the stuff might help her with the prophesy.  
  
"Oooooo, pretty, I want one!" Frodo whined, pointing at the light bulb.  
  
"Yes, Your Highness," Mela sighed as she unhappily handed over the light bulb. Darn! She was thinking of actually getting that one, too.  
  
Galadriel came up behind Mela and poked her in the back, "You have to get the bow," she hissed, "I'll keep it here until your brother gets here and then I'll give it to him."  
  
"Do I have to?" Mela whined.  
  
"Of course," Galadriel said, then noticing what Mela was holding (the love potion), "Oh, not a bad choice. Just smuggle it out," she suggested, ripping off the anti-theft device on the packaging, "For the fortune cookie?"  
  
Mela nodded.  
  
"Do you plan on feeding it to yourself or Frodo?"  
  
"Both of us will need it for the prophesy to happen," Mela sadly said.  
  
From the Diary of Legolas Greenleaf:  
  
Two days into my journey, Gwahir the eagle flew down and informed me that I had won a trip to Mordor World, the greatest amusement park in Middle- Earth! I landed here about lunch today and so far have ridden Mt. Doom and the Watchers' Merry – Go – Round. The Watchers' Merry-Go-Round was my favorite; I went on it nine times until I threw up! Hard core! It's too bad that the gift shop for it is all the way in Lothlórien; wow that place sounds familiar . . .  
  
This morning I set out for the most popular ride in Mordor World, the Tower of Barad-Dur, which drops you dozens of black stories all the way from the top! Unfortunately it was closed for repair, but should be open soon. The crowds here are enormous compared to the last time I was here!  
  
It is supper now (several weeks later; I've been waiting for the Tower of Barad-Dur to open) and I just realized that I am supposed to be in Lothlórien. Oops. Well, Gwahir disappeared as soon as he dropped me off, so I guess I'll have to walk. Sigh. I miss Arwen. I wish I had some tic-tacs so that I could be depressed and curl up in a corner. 


End file.
